


She's Thunderstorms

by punklexa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3381179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punklexa/pseuds/punklexa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna goes still. Maybe it's ridiculous – it <i>is</i> ridiculous – but she does not want to walk into that room. Her entire life has been of perfect, model-citizen and -student behavior, for as long as she can remember. Detention is a relatively small punishment; most people she knows have done it at least once or twice. But for Anna - this is a deviation from her standard. The goody-two-shoes straight-A student's first (and hopefully only) detention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the AU "I pretty much live in detention and you’re a straight A student here on your first offense. Wanna add another and skip detention with me?" from [this post](http://pantiedean.tumblr.com/post/110757930609/good-kid-troublemaker-aus). Title comes from the Arctic Monkeys song, "She's Thunderstorms."

Anna prides herself on being a good student. She never mouths off in class, always does her homework, and does as much extra credit as she can, even when she doesn't need it. Every Wednesday, she even volunteers after school to tutor other students in French, her favorite subject. She is absolutely, definitely _not_ a delinquent.

Which is why she's currently running with inhuman speed through the school hallway, full backpack bouncing on her shoulders, several textbooks and binders held tightly in her grip, wearing an inside-out novelty T-shirt and sweatpants.

There's less than two minutes left until class starts, a full eight minutes later than the on-time seven-fifty she usually arrives. Thanks to sleeping through her alarm, then a succession of red lights longer than any she's experienced ever before (the stars are really aligned in Anna's favor today), Anna is going to be late to class.

She glances over the materials she's holding one last time as she runs, then barely stops herself from audibly swearing. No wonder she had the feeling earlier that she'd forgotten something – her _The Scarlet Letter_ essay. Which she had been working on all night. Which was due today and currently sitting on the table at home.

 _Crap,_ she thinks to herself, _crap_ , and it turns into a kind of mantra as she forces herself to hurry even faster. The class is just a few feet down the hall – she's almost there.

The bell rings.

Anna sighs in defeat and slows down marginally, just enough to keep the top textbook in her hands from sliding onto the floor. Still jogging, she reaches the classroom in a few moments, grabs the doorknob, and twists. The door is locked. She knocks quickly, infuriated.

A boy Anna recognizes – she thinks his name might be Hank, or something – opens the door, barely hiding a grin. Anna glares at him.

The teacher, Ms. Harvelle, continues speaking to the class until she notices that _every student in the room_ (at least, that's how it feels to Anna) is staring in the direction of the door, most smiling and a few of the boys in the back corner even chuckling. “ _What_ is so funny?”

Then she sees Anna. Harry has already slunk back to his seat, leaving Anna defenseless.

“Anna? Do you have a note, Miss Milton?”

Anna wants to cry. This is so _humiliating_. “No, ma'am. I just – the traffic was terrible, I'm sorry-”

“Do you at least have your essay?”

Silently, Anna shakes her head. The group in the back laughs. She knows why; it's always hilarious when the token “smart kid” messes up, but the prodding stings anyway. “I'm sorry, Ms. Harvelle.”

Ms. Harvelle makes a _tsk_ sound. “Shame. I was looking forward to reading it. Take a seat, please – and I want to talk to you after class.”

 

Anna knows it's coming during the whole period. And even when the embarrassment fades from her face, she sinks low in her seat and looks intently at the passage they're analyzing, hoping Ms. Harvelle will forget about her transgression. She can get her essay to her first thing tomorrow, make up for it.

But when class ends, the teacher gestures for Anna to stand in front of her desk.

“Anna,” she says, slipping a piece of paper across her desk, “I'm sorry. I know it's hard to get here on time sometimes, but this is your third tardy this semester. You're gonna have to go to detention tomorrow. It's in Mr. Singer's room, after school.”

Anna reads wordlessly, then picks up the paper – a slip her parents have to sign to make sure they know about the detention.

“And please, get that essay to me before class tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Anna folds the paper and puts it in her pocket.

 

The next day, she approaches Mr. Singer's room, her friend Cas walking alongside her.

“I still can't believe I got detention,” she says. “I mean, I didn't realize how many times I've been late – you don't think this will go on my permanent record, do you?”

Cas shakes his head. “I'm sure your permanent record will be fine.”

“Good. I'm just glad my parents didn't totally freak out when I got them to sign this,” she adds, showing Cas the paper. It had taken several self-administered pep talks to convince herself that getting it signed was better than getting further punishment for avoiding it; luckily, receiving detention hadn't utterly destroyed their perception of her. “A month without driving privileges is _much_ better than what I thought they'd do.”

“Well, detention isn't too bad of a punishment. It's better than ISS.”

“Yeah, me getting that would really drive them mad.” She almost shudders

They've reached the room – its door is already open, and from here, Anna can see a few kids sitting quietly inside.

“Um. I guess we're here, then,” she tells Cas. “See you later.”

“Goodbye, Anna,” he says. “I'll drive you home when it's over. Don't worry too much.” He proceeds down the hallway, away from the room, until Anna is left standing alone in front of the open doorway.

Anna goes still. Maybe it's ridiculous – it _is_ ridiculous – but she does not want to walk into that room. Her entire life has been of perfect, model-citizen and -student behavior, for as long as she can remember. Detention is a relatively small punishment; most people she knows have done it at least once or twice. But for Anna - this is a deviation from her standard. The goody-two-shoes straight-A student's first (and hopefully only) detention.

Taking a deep breath, Anna walks into Mr. Singer's classroom.

 

The teacher is at his desk in the front of the room, perusing a book. Only a handful of students are here, and none of them are talking. Dean Winchester she recognizes immediately; he's wearing his signature cocky grin and leather jacket, sitting in the front row, next to a girl Anna doesn't know. A few other guys are sitting near them, doing homework. As Anna heads towards the back to take a seat, she freezes.

It's Ruby. Ruby Benton. Sitting in the middle row, fourth seat from the front. Anna pointedly looks away before Ruby sees her, then scurries by as quickly as she can to sit in the far back corner.

Anna sets her backpack down next to her seat, wincing at the sound of the zipper as she opens it in the silent room. _Maybe this won't be that bad,_ she thinks, taking out her Chemistry textbook. _I can at least get some work done._

If nothing else, detention provides a degree of silence Anna wouldn't get at home. Within several minutes, she is totally absorbed in her work. Then Mr. Singer clearing his throat makes her glance up.

“I gotta go for a bit,” he announces. “No talkin' while I'm gone. And don't try anything funny.” With that, he stands and walks out the door.

The students look at each other. No one speaks. Anna continues reading.

Something hits Anna's shoulder, then bounces off. She glances downward; a crumpled-up piece of paper now sits next to her foot. Probably a note meant for someone else; she isn't friends with anyone in here.

 _“Anna,”_ someone whispers.

Anna ignores them. She's nearly done with this chapter, then she can move on to her English work, maybe even get it done before detention ends.

 _“Anna,”_ the voice repeats. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Anna looks up – and her eyes meet with Ruby's dark ones. The girl winks, then mouths, “Read it.”

After Anna bends over to retrieve the paper, then unfolds it. _Hey,_ is written on the paper, in messy blue pen. _What're you in for?_

_That's none of your business,_ Anna responds, then tosses the paper back to Ruby.

_I know. But I'm really curious._

Anna considers throwing the note back without a reply. But she really doesn't want Ruby pestering her for the rest of detention.

_I was late to class too many times. Happy?_

_Not really. I was expecting you to have been in a fight or something._

_Sure._

This time, Ruby takes much longer to reply; she looks at the paper as if she doesn't know how to word something, or maybe as if she's afraid to say it. But eventually she passes it back.

_I want to get out of here. Skip detention with me._

Anna can't contain keep herself from whispering, “You want me to do  _what?”_ She's already being punished; she doesn't want to be reprimanded again.

“Shh.” Ruby gestures for Anna to toss the paper back to her.

_You're in here in your first offense. Why not make it two?_

She can't. She  _cannot do this._ But Ruby's looking at her with that pleading expression she's known for giving teachers – surprisingly innocent-looking, like a puppy in a leather jacket – and now Anna has an idea.

_Only if you agree to let me help you with your work._

Ruby raises her eyebrows.

_I do something you want; you do something I want. I get adventure; you get your homework done for once. Deal?_

_Fine, deal._ Ruby looks at Anna, then indicates the door in the back right corner of the room. Then she stands.

“If Mr. Singer asks where we are,” she tells the rest of the kids, shouldering her backpack, “say we're in the bathroom. C'mon, Anna.”

Anna follows Ruby out of the classroom, into the sunlight.

 

As soon as they're out of the school, Ruby starts sprinting towards the parking lot. She finally slows, then comes to a stop, in front of a red Camaro covered in bumper stickers. Anna barely gets the chance to see a rainbow flag symbol and a Misfits sticker among them before Ruby indicates for her to sit in the passenger seat, quickly getting in herself.

Anna says, “Nice car,” buckling her seatbelt and setting her backpack at her feet.

“Thanks. It's used, but I tried to make it my own,” Ruby replies before starting the car. Immediately, music blares from the radio – a coarse female voice, backed by near-deafening guitar and drums. Anna flinches at the noise.

Ruby turns down the radio to a reasonable level. “Sorry,” she says, and Anna thinks she might see a blush on the brown-haired girls' cheeks. “Is this music okay? I can put a different CD in, if you want. I have some lighter stuff, uh – do you like Arctic Monkeys?”

“No, this is fine,” Anna says. “And I do like them. We should listen to that later.”

“Awesome.” Ruby pulls out of the parking space. “Speaking of music, before you get started tutoring me, there's a place I want to show you.”

As Ruby drives, she taps her fingers on the wheel to the beat of the music, and Anna absentmindedly finds herself watching them. The roads are empty in a way Anna has never seen them before – late enough after school's end and early enough before dinner time that she sees just one other car on the route.

After less than ten minutes, Ruby pulls into a parking place in front of a tiny store. Anna's been near here only once or twice before; it's a small square that used to be the most bustling place in town, but has become more secluded since the mall was finished a year ago. From what Anna knows, this is where a lot of the “less savory,” as her mother would say, kids generally hang out.

“This,” Ruby says once they're out of the car, “is the best record store in town.”

The building is made of brick, pressed into a corner and so thin in comparison to the other nearby shops that Anna would've never noticed it if not for the painted sign that reads _Pamela's Records_ hanging above the wooden door.

“After you, miss,” Ruby proclaims with a fake accent as she opens the door. Anna steps inside, then she feels the warmth of Ruby's body heat behind her.

“Hey, Pamela!” Ruby says, her breath tickling Anna's neck.

“Hey, Ruby!” A woman dressed in a black tank top stands behind a counter to Anna's right; ahead are several rows of vinyl records and CDs, organized alphabetically. A candle sitting on the counter gives the place a refreshing scent. “Have fun browsing. I'll be right here if you need help finding anything.”

“Thanks, Pam.” Ruby places a hand on Anna's arm, holding just above her wrist to tug her lightly in front of a row of records. “They've got so much awesome stuff here, Anna. Just take a look.”

As Anna flips through the first row, she sees a lot of familiar names – AC/DC, Aerosmith – and a ton she's never heard of. Ruby stands next to her, scanning through another row.

“Hey, Anna, look at this,” Ruby says, pulling a record out. “I've been looking for this everywhere!”

Anna smiles. “That's so neat!” She doesn't recognize the band name at all, (nor does she care much, to be honest,) but there's something about the way Ruby's behaving now that's much different than how she acts at school. There's a vulnerable hint in her tone when she speaks, like she's expecting Anna to judge what she says, and every occasional touch she gives her – like the little shoulder taps when she wants to attract Anna's attention to show her something - is careful.

They fall into a comfortable rhythm for a period of time, mostly filled by amicable silence. But every once in a while Ruby will show Anna a record with strange cover art, or tell her a joke, and they'll laugh; every once in a while, they'll look at each other, and it'll feel like staring at the sun. Then she has to look away and wonder why she's happy, and not worried like she should be.

At last, Ruby speaks up. “You ready to go, Anna? We still haven't done your part of the deal.”

“Oh, that's right! Yeah, let's go. I was thinking we head over to the bookstore – they've got a nice little restaurant. The coffee is _incredible_.” Anna bites her lip. “That is, if you still want to.”

“Of course I do,” Ruby says, slinging a tentative arm around Anna's shoulder. “It's not often I have a total nerd to help me with my work.”

 

They've been sitting down at a table inside the bookstore's restaurant, piles of Ruby's work spread out in front of them, and the record next to her (because she refused to leave “this valuable piece of art in the _car_!”)

Ruby's frowning at a math worksheet in between sips of coffee. “You were right,” she says, “This coffee is awesome.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Anna says, “but we need to get some of this Algebra done. What exactly do you need help with?”

“I need help with the whole _concept._ And I need to know why the hell Mrs. Case thinks this is important.”

“Well, it's probably important to engineers. And scientists. And a ton of other people. Here – let me work one of these for you, so you can see how it's done.” Anna takes the worksheet and scrutinizes the first problem. “Pay attention – I'm not going to do all of these for you.”

She works the problem, explaining each step carefully as she goes, until she arrives at an answer. “So,” she finishes, “it's either negative or positive 45, and you know it can't be negative because there's no such thing as a negative area.”

“Thanks so much!” Ruby says, leaning back in her chair. “This makes a lot more sense now. I just have one more question.”

“What's that?”

“Can you do _all_ my homework?”

Anna laughs. “Definitely not.”

“Well, then, I'm afraid I won't be able to do it. Unless you offer me some incentive,” Ruby wiggles her eyebrows.

Anna blushes. “How about the incentive of not flunking all your classes?”

“Ehh. Don't really care about that. How about agreeing to tutor me again next week? Same time, same place?”

“If you promise you won't have an entire semester's worth of work for me to help you with next time,” Anna says, “Yes.”

“It's a date, then.”

“It's a date.”

Then Anna notices the clock. It's nearly four-thirty.

“Crap,” she says. “My mom's expecting my friend to drop me off. I should be home already.”

“Uh, Anna,” Ruby says, “I can drive you home. If you want. I mean, if it's really that late -”

“Thank you! I'd really appreciate it. My parents are super strict about this kind of thing. I'll let her and Cas know.” She rapidly types a message explaining the situation to each of them.  
Ruby shoves her papers into their respective binders, then puts everything in her backpack and slings it over her shoulder. She grabs the record, and soon, they're sitting in her car again.

“One more thing before we go,” Ruby says. She presses the Eject button next to the radio, then reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out two CD cases. A disc slips partly out of the slot; this she puts away, before replacing it with another. The distinct sound of Arctic Monkeys' “She's Thunderstorms” begins.

As the frontman croons softly, Ruby puts the car in reverse and asks, “Where d'you live?”

“Uh, up on Elysium Road.”

Ruby whistles. “That's a nice place.”

“It is. I really like living there.”

This drive is just as wordless as the previous, but neither Ruby nor Anna minds. Ruby hums quietly along with the tune of the next few songs. Soon, they turn onto Anna's road.

“Which house?”

“53.”

A moment later, Ruby stops the car in front of Anna's driveway.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Ruby says.

“Yeah.” She doesn't move for a moment, not wanting to leave. “Ruby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you do all this for me? You didn't have to, you could've left me in detention.”

“Well,” Ruby says, “for one, you looked like a nerd that really needed some adventure. And secondly,” she draws in a breath, looking at her lap. “I may have a bit of a crush on you.”

Anna merely says, “Ruby. Look at me.”

When the girl tilts her head back up again, Anna leans forward and, with rare confidence, plants a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Wha -”

“Consider that a ... preemptive reward for getting all your work done,” she says. “I'll see you tomorrow, Ruby.”

Then she smoothly puts on her backpack and starts walking up the driveway.

She knows, sooner or later, her parents are going to find out about what she did today. They're probably going to be wondering who her “new friend” is, and she's sure they won't be happy. When that happens, she'll get something much worse than revoked driving privileges. But she'll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

With the taste of Ruby lingering on her lips and the scent of her still in her nostrils, for now, she is content.

 


End file.
